For My Going Away
by static-disturbed
Summary: When Daryl Dixon dies, he doesn't go alone. Angsty little Maggie/Daryl/Rick friendship/family drabble with a ghost of Bethyl.


Title: For my Going Away

AN: Just a little angsty something that popped into my mind.

Summary: When Daryl Dixon dies, he doesn't go alone. Daryl/Maggie/Rick friendship/family and a little ghost of Bethyl.

* * *

 _"Of all the comrades I e'er had, they are sorry for my going away."_

His mamma died alone, burnt down to nothing in the bed where she cried and drank and dabbed cakey makeup over purple fingerprints on her throat. She went with her wine and Virginia Slims which was really all she ever had in life.

His old man went alone, withered away to nothing as his liver finally fought back against the lifetime assault of whiskey and beer. Neither of his boys were by his side when he took his last breath and he didn't search for them, even with death looming Will Dixon wasn't the type to go seeking penance.

Merle met his maker alone but for once in his ten lifetimes crammed into one, he had his dignity with him.

Ain't never been Dixon that was enough for anyone to be by their side as they took their final breath.

Daryl doesn't go alone. Bodies liter the ground, smoke snakes towards the sky in wispy tendrils. Things are quiet, the way they always are after battle. The sun is heavy on the horizon and when it rises the next morning he'll be dead.

Maggie kneels at his side. Her hair is sweaty and brushed of her face, her jacket spattered with blood and tiny little cuts and scrapes are mapped across her face. She holds one of his hands between both of hers, clasped together upon the swell of her belly. She smiles thru tears when the baby kicks and his eyes slither open, lips tugging upwards.

"You tell his daddy," she whispers, brushes some hair from his forehead, "tell his daddy what that felt like ok?"

She gave up her heaving about holding on, about waiting for the doctors. They don't talk about the gaping hole in his stomach or about how they have no idea where the others are. When she cries, he frowns.

"S'alright," he manages and ignores the stabbing in his lungs at every word, "s' gon' be ok now, we won."

"What are we supposed to do?" she plasters a smile over tight lips to clench the flow of tears, "without Daryl Dixon?"

"Gon' miss my squirrels," he whispers, a ragged breath between each word but it's ok when she laughs, her nose dripping and bottom lip trembling.

She was just a girl on a horse, undermining his new, fragile authority in the blink of an eye. She raises their hands, presses his knuckles to her forehead. His friend, his sister.

"Ain't nothin' to cry about," he murmurs, "ya gonna rebuild the world Greene, fix this shit."

Of course it's gonna be Maggie, of course it's gonna be a Greene.

"S'not safe, go" he gestures weakly with his free hand. They're exposed to any saviors still clinging to life and any walkers sure to start rising soon.

"I won't leave you," she insists, strong and steady like always and he concedes because ain't never been any sense trying to argue with one of Hershel's girls.

Daryl doesn't hear the approaching footfalls, but he hears Maggie's voice try to croak something out and fall short. Rick's at his side, crumbled at the knees, head tilted and face crumpled in a silent sob. He's battered, bloody, favoring his own side but come morning he'll be ok and that means everything will be ok.

"Brother," Daryl manages and Rick's hand grasps his shoulder, their old familiar gesture that carries so many words they're both shit at saying.

 _"I'm Rick Grimes"._ Cocky son of a bitch, too noble for anyone's good. Most honorable man he's ever known, best friend he's ever had.

"Always figured you'd go out in a blaze of glory," Rick pushes out, trying to keep an ease in his voice, "damn show off."

Daryl chuckles thru the next wave of pain his chest.

"Hell yea," he grunts and makes his blue eyes meet Rick's, "ya tell em…tell em I…"

"I know," Rick interrupts gently, "I will. They love you too."

Judith and Carl, the fuel in the warplane that kept them all propelling forward for so long.

"I…I can," he forces his hand towards Rick's belt, ghosts weak fingers over the cool handle of the cobra.

"No," his brother shakes his head, "you just relax, I'll take care of that, I'll make sure," Rick nods down at him, "ya don't have to do all the heavy lifting, I got this one."

And then something happens. Even in death Daryl refuses to believe in anything as cliché as the white light and parting clouds but he can't deny the tangible comfort that starts in his stomach and spreads thru his body like the warm tingle of a strong shot.

And he hears it, the sound he's been chasing for years now.

"Mag…Maggie?"

"I'm here," she assures, leaning over him, "I'm right here Daryl."

"Ya hear her?"

She frowns, sighs thru a sob because she doesn't want to see him confused, wants him to go knowing he's with family. He's insistent though, a surge of strength turning his head towards her and forcing his eyes open.

"Maggie don't ya hear her? She's singin' for me, what's tha' song?" his voice is barely audible and he's searching her eyes for answers, "the one…one from the fire…sorry for my going away?"

When realization dawns on Maggie and she gasps he releases a long breath and turns his head back to the clear sky, lips turned upwards, "she's the prettiest damn thing I ever seen."

Maggie holds his hand over her heart and hot tears cascade over her cheeks, meeting Rick's eyes. He offers a small smile to her, something like relief settling on his features.

She's calling him home.

"It's ok Daryl," Maggie promises, "you can go. Go be with our girl."

He goes towards her voice with his family on either side of him and a smile on his face. It's enough, he'd been enough.


End file.
